Michael actually let a small smile grow on his face as Sam spoke about making friends. That would be good for him. He was benefitting the mansion that had graciously accepted him, and he was not paying for anything as of yet. He spoke out louder than he normally did, trying to be proud. “I…I hope I can…can get money and make a new friend. Does…does anyone want to be my friend yet?” He looked up at Sam for a moment, and then down again, trying to make sense of things.

He listened more and then looked up as he heard Sam talk about a specific person. He looked around until he noticed who he was talking about, and then he noticed who it was. A girl with long blonde hair who did seem to have an unpleasant look on her face. She didn’t look nice at all in his opinion. He probably wouldn’t talk to her even if he was told not to. “She looks funny.” He said, frowning now a little bit. This was also a bit louder than he intented.

All the noise had caused him to be a little bit deaf to his surroundings for the moment. He looked at his hands, and then at Sam again. “Do…do you think anyone wants to be my friend?” He asked it quietly, because he was afraid that no one would want to be. He was, after all, not a very sociable person, and he tended to require other peoples clothes a lot of the time. He just hoped that he’d raise money. “I want to help the…the people that brought me here, so I hope..”

Somebody was writing on Slate's paper. Or, at least, Kaitlyn thought that might be what was happening. There was a pen floating around above his auction sheet, and it seemed to be writing something. Hold on. She held up a finger at Slate, gesturing for him to wait, then she darted off towards the floating pen.

Kaitlyn wasn't the only one bidding on him. Somebody named "Cafas" – is that even a real name? – had doubled what the Orderling thought would be both the first and the last bid on her telepathic catboy. The floating pen was probably the work of a telekinetic, whose name started with "Ze," and who was willing to spend $1000. Before more than the first two letters in his or her name could be written, Kaitlyn snatched the pen out of the air and wrote down her own bid: One thousand, five hundred dollars. Kaitlyn Faust.

The telepathic catboy was hers. She already had their date planned out, and everything!

It was a good thing Lori was letting her spend so much money on this.

"Your late, late, late, late, late, LATE !" Was going through Cailyn's head as she was running up to the mansion following up into the library. If she hadn't been so undecisive about her clothes and payed attention to the time she might have been there on time. But ofcourse she hadn't been paying attention to annything as always. She was still wearing summerdresses in the winter and it was cold.

When she finally got up the library she was out of breath and amazed by how many people where already there and talking. She might have been to late for the bidding but she would probably never figure that out. Fixing her dress and trying to catch her breath, she already started hearing the voices of people's thoughts. Not that she could figure out which voice was paired with which mind in this crowd.

The decision was made for her to sneakingly take a seat and hope nobody noticed she was late. Ofcourse she did this without any skill of sneaking but the hope was there that she would succeed, sometime.

Sam smiled as Michael described Celeste as funny looking. It was not true of course, well apart from the completely OTT silver dress, she was perfectly normal looking and would even be called pretty if she would just stop frowning. He still could not hear what was going on between her and the cat boy but he could guess it wasn’t all that pleasant.

“Do…do you think anyone wants to be my friend?”

Michael’s small voice reclaimed his attention. Had anyone bet on the boy? Sam was not sure; he had been paying closer attention to the child himself than to his betting sheet. But the question sparked an interest in the illusion mutant. What kind of person would bet on a malnourished nine year old? Sam guessed it would probably be someone who knew Michael already, someone like Kat maybe.

“I want to help the…the people that brought me here, so I hope..”

That’s true who had brought Michael here? Sam had never bothered to take the time to find out. Now it was just another question to be added to his ever growing list. He sighed, there was at least one easy way to get some of these questions answered and that was to go and have a look at Michael’s signup sheet. Before voicing the idea Sam silently prayed that there was at least one person that had bet on the boy.

“Well how about we go and find out?”

With that he stood up signaling for Michael to do the same and headed across the room to the stage.

Katrina smiled and nodded at the detective, it was indeed quite the turnout. That didn't mean they would make much money, though. It all depended on what the bidders were willing to give.

“We'll see, I suppose. Thank you, though, for your support. I'm glad you could come and that you are willing to share Coach T with the frisbee team now and then.”

It was at that point that Calley returned from his mission. He was not stomping, and not sulking at all. And, above all, he was not glaring at Cafas. At least, he'd never admit that he was.

“Uh, excuse me for a minute,” she slipped away from the cop to see what it was Calley wanted. He gave her his two cents, muttered something about ice cream on him, then stalked away again to continue sulking.

Two cents?

The verbal expression or the literal object? Slate was so helpful.

Literal object, the little illusionist clarified.

Ah. Did you find more in the couch? I do not believe it would help to outbid Kaitlyn, but I thank you for the thought.

No, she didn't think so either. Maybe she was supposed to outbid someone else, though. When she checked the bidding sheets it became apparent what the two cents were for. Katrina wrote $16.29 under Calley's name, wondering if perhaps Calley hadn't given Cafas as nice a Christmas present as Cafas had given him, or something like that. Why else would he bid only one penny more on his own boyfriend room mate?

There wasn't much time left to bid when she wrote her number. In fact, she was surprised to hear someone else announce that the official bidding had finished. She had let it run over by a whole three minutes by not watching the clock!

The results were full of surprises. The biggest bidders were in the thousands of dollars, more than the little illusionist ever could have imagined earning. Jorge, of all people, had bid on her, and won. She won the penny bidding war against Cafas for the honor of ice cream cones on Calley, though Katrina would never let him get away with just ice cream. Slate was purchased by Kaitlyn, who was much richer than Katrina had thought. Maxine walked off with the winning bid on cute little Michael, and Katrina wondered if he'd end up on the air because of it.